The Choska let out a gasping roar, but managed to hold itself still. The pain was tremendous, and probably not necessary. The demon-beast knew that Pael was punishing it for not keeping its promise to bring back the boy’s head or the sword. It had no choice but to take the pain Pael was inflicting. Its wound was as mortal as the boy’s was, and only Pael would bother to heal it. No one else had that kind of power, or would dare to get close enough to do such a deed. The Choska had no choice other than to suffer the excruciating torment until Pael was done.
When the sword wound was repaired, Pael went around the creature, pulling arrows out of its hide, and healing the minor wounds. There were far more arrows than Pael had first thought. The one in the demon beast’s nostril was the one Pael saved for last, and he was far from gentle when he yanked it free. All of the Choska’s agony was quickly flooded over by relief then. Of all the wounds, that one was the most irritatingly painful.
“I’ll need you soon demon,” said Pael.
“Shoookin, you owe me my freedom,” the Choska hissed with as much respect in its voice as it could muster. “You said that –”
“NO!” Pael cut the demon off with a fierce shout. “You were to bring me the boy’s head or the sword! You brought me neither! And now, you not only owe me your service, you owe me your life!”
Pael seethed and veins bulged out on his rage mottled, egg shaped head. A drop of saliva trailed down his trembling chin, and his eyes flared with promises of violence.
The Choska cowered in fear, for Shokin spoke the truth. Pael had saved his life, and it hadn’t completed the bargain they had struck. The Choska demon could not yet claim its freedom from the demon-wizard’s service.
“I will come when you summon me,” the Choska conceded, before it leapt into the air, and winged away in search of a place to rest.
Pael let the heat in his blood cool a little bit, and then transported himself back to his temporary laboratory. He had taken over the modest twin towered castle that sat in the center of the Red City, Dreen. When he got there, he carefully put the Blood Caps in a stone box, covered it securely, and then lay down to rest. The healing of the Choska had taken its toll on his strength. The plain fact that it took far more energy to heal, than it did to destroy, wasn’t lost on him. As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered if someone would expend that much power to heal the boy, and if Ironspike had really exhausted itself of its power.
He found that the low, wailing cries of frustration and anger coming from the crippled undead that were scattered about the city, helped him sleep. Nearly a hundred burned, broken, or semi-dismembered men and women that couldn’t die, had been left behind in the city. Pael had contemplated sending someone around to behead them, to send them to true death, and put them out of their misery. Eventually he would, but not yet. For now, he let the sounds of their restless agony, and their horrid cries of frustration, carry him into that deep place of sleep were Shokin’s powerful dreams came to him.
“I’m sorry General Chatta, those are my King’s orders,” General Vogle, the commander of the Valleyan forces King Broderick had sent to invade Highwander, said dejectedly.
“But why?” General Chatta asked.
His Queen, Queen Rachel, had, after much deliberation, and as much if not more reserve, agreed to aid King Broderick in this attack on Highwander. Now after they had taken two Highwander cities, made the plans, and gained the position to attack the city of Xwarda itself, King Broderick was ordering the Valleyans to pull out. It made no sense.
“Westland’s new King has attacked Dreen,” General Vogel said, shaking his head with disbelief. “Apparently, he already sacked Castlemont, and carved a passage through the Wilder Mountains. I just don’t see how.”
“That’s preposterous!” exclaimed Chatta.
The two generals were in an abandoned city house, getting ready to take supper. Vogel had gotten the message from King Broderick the night before, but had only gotten enough liquor into himself to find the courage to tell General Chatta this afternoon. The two had planned and worked so hard preparing to take Xwarda. The new orders were a grave disappointment. It shamed Vogel to have to pull out now, but if his kingdom’s capital city was under attack, as the messenger had said, there wasn’t much choice in the matter. Already, he had delayed leaving an extra day, and that was far too long.
The combined Valleyan and Seaward armies, had already taken the Highwander border city of Tarn, and here they sat, about to dine in the newly taken trading town, known as Plat. They were barely a day’s ride from Xwarda, and the siege engines and towers were nearly completed. The new developments back in Dreen made everything they had accomplished, and all the blood they had shed, seem like a waste.